


I'll Go With You

by Shinsun



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Allusions to Other Things, Allusions to Violence, Angst, Back on my self-indulgent shit, Dysphoria, Explicit Sexual Content, FTM Kagami, Fighting The Cis-tem, Fingering, M/M, Of Said Weed, Oh Yeah Weed, Rolling With My College AU Headcanons, Smoking, Stoner Himuro, Subtext, Trans Male Character, Uni AU, Violence, binders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 14:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinsun/pseuds/Shinsun
Summary: “You shouldn’t have to fight to be allowed to like, be a person.”Impact. Clenched fists strike unprotected skin, nails biting into his palms. Blood bursts between teeth no longer sneering, grimacing in pain, scarlet spattering bright and shockingly human on the pavement at Taiga’s feet.Taiga takes another hit of Tatsuya’s weed before handing it over, stretching his sore arms over his head.“Yeah, well,” he mutters at last, curls of smoke escaping between his lips, “Someone’s got to.”





	I'll Go With You

**Author's Note:**

> Pride month may be done but I'M SURE NOT.
> 
> This fic has no relation to TWP in...any way, just more trans guy Kagami because WHOOPS, I got a hate comment about him on that fic so here I go again.
> 
> Also! A quick but important disclaimer before we start: The author is a trans guy, who has experienced and does experience body dysphoria on a pretty regular basis. A lot of Kagami's thoughts and feelings in this are a projection of my own thoughts and feelings. I'm not saying they're correct or healthy in any way, but they exist, and this is a safe place to let them out. That's what fanfiction is for.

As much as he tries to tell himself it’s out of his system, Taiga knows this won’t be the last time. It’s definitely not the first; at this point the sting of a split lip and the ache of his ribs and hands are almost a comfort. Almost worth the trouble he’s going to be in the next time he’s found out. 

It’s not so much that Aomine rescued him as that he happened to be in the right place at the right time. He’s never really come across as the patronizing type, and Taiga finds it easier, somehow, to be seen like this in his company than if he’d had to call Tatsuya or, God forbid, his father, to come pick him up. 

_The lines around his eyes are deep and rigid as he pulls the bandages tight. The eyes themselves are cold and hard, distant yet painful to look at like the sun._

_“You’re better than this,” they seem to say._

_“No,” Taiga wants to say back, “I’m really not.”_

Bloody knuckles and a bruised ego make for strange bedfellows. Not that Aomine is actually in his bed. Not that he’s ever been. The floor of Alex’s basement is pretty comfortable to sprawl out on side by side, though, watching the faint, wispy haze of smoke smear across the ceiling lights. Like dust motes in a shaft of sunlight. Abstract, almost beautiful.

“You could sue for discrimination,” Aomine says, for the fifth time, turning the smoldering joint over between his fingers.

“No, I can’t,” Taiga sighs, “The law’s not on my side here, dumbass.”

“Not yet.”

Taiga huffs, and folds his hands on his chest, “Right. Because when you get your degree, the first thing you’re gonna do is advocate for trans rights?”

_The manager’s scowl and scornful eyes are nothing new. Neither is the rejection. Nor the word that rolls off the man’s tongue outside, the chime of the door behind Taiga a grating death knell, clashing with flashes of sneering teeth. He could still walk away._

“Hey, I’m just snowballing here.”

A laugh tickles Taiga’s throat, and he accepts the joint as Aomine passes it back, “You mean spitballing.”

Aomine’s nose wrinkles, “Gross.”

Fitting the already damp tip to his lips, Taiga smirks as he takes a slow drag, blowing a sweet gray cloud toward the ceiling, “Yours is grosser.”

“Seriously, though, that’s fucked up,” Aomine insists, rolling over onto his stomach. His eyes are a little glazed now, but still adamant as he fixes them on the wall across the room, “You shouldn’t have to fight to be allowed to like, be a person.”

_Impact. Clenched fists strike unprotected skin, nails biting into his palms. Blood bursts between teeth no longer sneering, grimacing in pain, scarlet spattering bright and shockingly human on the pavement at Taiga’s feet._

Taiga takes another hit of Tatsuya’s weed before handing it over, stretching his sore arms over his head.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters at last, curls of smoke escaping between his lips, “Someone’s got to.”

Aomine bites down on the end of the joint, propping his chin up on his arm and crossing his ankles in the air.

“You know,” he says, “My dad just made Commissioner last month.”

“I know,” Taiga says grimly, “It was all over the news. How d’you think he’d feel about you smoking pot in my apartment instead of studying for exams?”

“Hey, it’s keeping me off the streets,” Aomine shrugs, “But that’s not the point. I’m thinking maybe he could ID those fuckers and put the fear of God in ‘em or something.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s police brutality,” Taiga says, and Aomine shakes with a stifled laugh before taking a pull from the joint, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment.

Taiga thinks, absently, like a passing shadow, that he kind of likes Aomine this way. His teeth are still gritted with hunger for vengeance, but his voice is warm and laid-back, the lines of his body totally relaxed. If he’d known getting the asshole stoned would mellow him out this much, Taiga thinks he might have broken into Tatsuya’s stash sooner.

“What this really calls for,” Aomine is saying, twirling the joint between his knuckles the same way he does a pencil, like he’s about to strike it on a drumhead, “Is some good strong booze. Not the weak-ass backwash shit in Kise’s freezer, like...something you could start a fire with.”

Taiga snorts. “Not all of us can be alcoholics. Or pyromaniacs,” he adds as he catches Aomine’s eye with a grin. 

“Fair enough,” Aomine grunts, offering Taiga the last hit before resting his forehead against his arms, hiding his face. His hair is getting longer again, like it is when he shows up to class unkempt and bleary-eyed, only to sleep through it with his head pillowed in the crook of his elbow. Like when he doesn’t care about grades, about appearances, about anything.

Taiga finishes the joint with a thoughtful frown, holding the smoke down in his lungs while he extinguishes the last few centimeters on the corner of the table, where a dozen odd scorch marks already brand the artificial wood grain. Then he breathes out, and settles back against the floor, fighting a wince as a pang shoots out from his ribs. Not as sharp as it’s been in the past.

 _He sucks in air between his teeth as he slowly raises his arms over his head, peeling the binder away from skin already tender and mottled with bruises; faint blue marks that will bloom green and purple by morning. But it’s not the reminder of the injuries he sustained that causes him to balk from his reflection._

“I didn’t need your help today,” he mutters, to the ceiling. Aomine’s shoulders twitch as he exhales a laugh.

“I know,” he says, muffled by his sleeves against his face, “I wasn’t gonna let you have all the fun.”

It’s not so much that Aomine rescued him. He just happened to cut in before things could really get ugly. And he managed to walk away nearly unscathed, split knuckles and recently stemmed nosebleed notwithstanding. It burns Taiga up that he doesn’t bruise so easily.

“Tetsu told me,” Aomine starts, lifting his head a little, “how sometimes you’ll start shit just to let yourself get beaten into a pulp. How you’ll take on four guys at once all by yourself…”

Taiga sighs, “Kuroko needs to learn to mind his own damn business. Like he’s any better.”

“That’s different.”

Hackles rising, Taiga turns to face him sharply, ”How?”

“‘Cause he doesn’t go looking for trouble for no reason,” Aomine hastens to say, holding up his hands like he can physically push Taiga’s temper back. 

“I’ve got a reason.”

Aomine holds his gaze for a moment, his eyes glassy but surprisingly lucid. Then he looks away, “Those dickweeds aren’t worth it.”

Taiga snorts a laugh, looking at Aomine’s serious expression, and before long he’s shaking with near-silent giggles. He can’t help it, it just bubbles out of him, and after a moment, Aomine joins him in it, his teeth bright against his dusky cheeks, pulled tight as he snickers into his hand.

“Fuck,” Taiga pants, trying to catch his breath. His chest sings with pain on every inhale, but on the whole, he feels much better. There’s a buzzing in the tips of his fingers now and it might be the high, or it might be the compression cutting off his circulation, or the way Aomine’s eyes squint open as the laughter dies away, slow and lazy like a giant cat. Maybe the way he’s spread out on Taiga’s floor; an open, unashamed invitation to stare at all the lean, hard muscle and sharp angles that Taiga keeps looking for in the mirror, but hasn’t quite been able to find.

_Sometimes, if he crosses his arms just right, he can pretend the rest is just a temporary trick of the light. It’s just the narrow square of the bathroom mirror that makes him look slender, or small. His shoulders might be wide as wingspans if they could just step outside of this frame, and maybe...just maybe, what he sees here isn’t what everyone else is seeing._

In a way, he thinks, Aomine is everything he wants to be. Strong and sound and self-reliant, commanding with his voice and his presence… impossible to ignore. He doesn’t apologize for taking up space, and doesn’t need to; he walks into rooms with his shoulders thrown back and his head held high, and says ‘ _the fuck are you looking at?’._

Taiga wishes it were possible to be that fucking perfect.

“Do you ever think,” Aomine starts, after a moment, “like... what are we even doing here?”

Taiga blinks, “Yeah... totally.”

“Like... we could be feeling like shit at the beach right now,” Aomine concludes, scratching his ear idly. Taiga pushes him.

“Idiot. You’re baked as a cake right now, we’re not going to the beach.”

Aomine rolls onto his side, and pushes him back, “You’re the idiot, idiot.”

Taiga winces, and his hand instinctively goes to his chest. Guarding. Checking.

“Oh…” Aomine says, bleary eyes going wide. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt --”

“You didn’t,” Taiga interrupts, because it’s mostly true. He’s flinched away from less. “It’s fine.”

“Oh,” Aomine says again, lowering his gaze. Taiga can see in the lines of his forehead that he’s thinking hard, or trying to. _This oughta be good…_

“Has…” he stammers at last, clearing his throat. “Has anyone ever touched you there, you know… _without_ hurting you?”

“Yeah,” Taiga says immediately. Defensively. It’s technically over the line, but he can’t blame Aomine for being tactless when he’s the one who offered him weed.

Aomine looks like he finds that a bit hard to believe, but he doesn’t ask any follow-up questions. Taiga sighs, and sits up.

“There’s uh… kind of a niche for that sort of thing,” he says, with some reluctance, crossing his arms on his bent knees.

“What d’you mean?” Aomine asks, sitting up as well.

“You know… like… a preference, a fetish…”

“A _fetish?”_ Aomine repeats, his voice turning hard. When Taiga looks at him, he looks outraged.

“Yeah, you know,” Taiga says heatedly. “Some people get off on a guy with --”

“Stop,” Aomine cuts him off, rubbing his hands over his face. “Shit, that’s messed up.”

“Yeah, well...” Taiga murmurs, as he withdraws further into himself. _It is what it is._

“And you… I mean, do you actually want that?” Aomine says. He’s quieter too, now, like if he speaks it any louder he won’t get an answer. He almost sounds like he doesn’t want one. “With those people?”

“Who else is going to -- ?” Taiga starts, before he catches himself. He’s out of arm’s reach and three layers deep behind his defenses, but he still feels exposed.

Aomine looks at him. Just looks at him, and it’s not hateful, it’s not searching; if anything, it’s kind of sad. The last thing Taiga wants right now is to be pitied.

As soon as Aomine opens his mouth, he holds up a hand to stop him, “Don’t… try to tell me I’m wrong. I really don’t need it right now.”

Aomine’s eyebrows furrow, “How can you be this fucking _clueless?”_

Taiga starts, and curls his hands back into fists, “What --?”

He barely gets the word out before Aomine is suddenly right in front of him, crouching at his level and glaring right into his face. He’s flushed with anger and embarrassment, and his breath is coming fast, like it took a tremendous effort. 

His eyes are like chips of sea glass; foggy blue and beautiful.

“Kagami, I’ve wanted to kiss you almost since we met,” he says, every word deliberate. “If you don’t want me to… tell me now.”

Taiga’s mouth has fallen open of its own accord, and his hands are still clenched and shaking, but right now, he’s not afraid. Shocked, yes, and angry, but only because it’s fucking _unfair_ for Aomine to spring this on him now, when it’s so difficult for him to think clearly. But he’d be lying to say he hasn’t thought about it; quiet, wistful in the back of his mind, but ultimately useless, because everyone within a ten mile radius of Aomine knows what he likes. 

_“Big girls with big tits, Kagami,” Aomine gloats, throwing an arm around Taiga’s shoulder. “That’s where it’s at.”_

_Taiga puts on an affronted scowl and shoves him away, like always, but as he watches him laugh, watches the easy, careless swing of his stride, he can’t help but sigh to himself._

He can say with absolute certainty that Aomine is never going to see him as a pair of tits. In all the time he’s known him, he’s been an insufferable asshole, but has never once wavered in his respect and acceptance for Taiga as he wants to be seen. And that realization had come as a huge relief… but also, disgustingly, kind of a disappointment.

He’s been silent for almost a minute, and still Aomine hasn’t made a single move. He doesn’t look nervous, or uncertain, but then, he never does. His cheeks are still red, and his mouth is a straight line.

Finally, Taiga leans forward, just slightly, and that seems to be all the cue Aomine needs. His hands are steady, if slightly damp with sweat, when they cup the edges of Taiga’s jaw, and his lips when they touch Taiga’s own are warm and so careful, like he’s taking something he isn’t allowed to have.

But Taiga is allowing him, and when he presses back he feels the air leave Aomine’s lungs in a rush, a shaky breath as he separates just to put them back together. He tastes faintly sour-sweet, like lingering smoke, and his eyes are closed now, his hands not straying from Taiga’s cheeks even after he expects them to. He just kisses and kisses him, changing the angle but not the pressure, apparently not in any rush. It’s slow and undemanding and totally not what Taiga pictured it would be, so he can’t help but push back harder to find out where the limit is. If there is one. 

He doesn’t know what Aomine is trying to get out of this, if anything, but he matches Taiga’s pace, the increased force of his open mouth, and sucks in a gasp when Taiga’s hand goes for his hair, clenching in the shaggy strands and drawing a breathy moan from his throat. His own hands still haven’t moved.

“Fucking --” Taiga growls, gripping his wrist and dragging it down to his chest. “ _Touch_ me already, idiot --”

Aomine freezes, his lips a centimeter away from Taiga’s, his fingers stalling, unmoving, splayed against the panel of stiff nylon through his shirt.

“Is that what you want?” he asks softly.

“Is that what _you_ want?” Taiga shoots back.

“I just want…” Aomine starts, drawing away slightly. “I don’t want… to be like those people. I’m not.”

Taiga snorts in agreement, “You’re not. But we both know how much you like --”

“I like _you,_ ” Aomine interrupts, fervently. Then his eyes widen a fraction, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud...and he’s not the only one caught by surprise.

Taiga just stares at him for a moment, at a loss for words. He doubts Aomine would freely admit something like that if his defenses weren’t down, but he sounds completely serious, and isn’t trying to take it back, so he thinks it’s also pretty safe to bet that it’s not just the weed talking.

“I have… for awhile,” Aomine continues slowly, seeming embarrassed, and bringing his hands down into his lap. “But I didn’t know if --”

“You should’ve _said_ something, dumbass,” Taiga interrupts, rolling his eyes and surging forward to kiss him again, discarding the rest for now. Okay, so maybe his defenses are a little weak right now too, but in his mind, that’s reason enough to stop overthinking it. And when he guides Aomine’s hands to his shoulders, this time it’s less challenge and more invitation. It’s up to him where they go from there.

Aomine opts to wrap them around Taiga’s back, under the arms, kneeling between his thighs and taking control of the kiss, his tongue slick against Taiga’s teeth. Before Taiga knows it he’s back on the floor, his head spinning as Aomine plunges fearlessly into his mouth, now that he has permission, his body warm and solid as it fits against his own. Almost perfect.

After months of window shopping and hidden, longing glances, it’s almost unreal to actually reach out and touch the firmly chiseled muscles of Aomine’s chest, feel the powerful, rhythmic throbbing of his pulse, his ribs expanding uninhibited through the fabric of his shirt. He’s built like a furnace, radiating heat and vitality, and by leaning down and kissing Taiga, he seems to transfer some of that blazing energy over to him, breathing life and red-hot vigor into his struggling lungs.

By the time Taiga breaks away, he’s gasping for air, and not in the sexy way… not all there, anyway. His head is starting to feel a bit spotty under a combination of endorphins, THC, and good old fashioned asphyxiation, and he thinks that passing out under Aomine before they can do more than kiss a couple times would be a waste of the opportunity. He doesn’t know if criminal justice students are ever drilled on CPR, and if they are, knowing Aomine, he probably slept through the lecture.

“Hang on,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows and tugging his shirt off over his head, before his fingers go for the bottom of his binder. “Lemme take this off.”

“You don’t have to,” Aomine says, in a sweet, but ultimately misguided show of support.

“Uh, yeah I do,” Taiga laughs, wriggling the tight material up his ribs until he can yank it free with a grunt of effort. “Breathing’s… kinda important.”

He can see that Aomine is making a valiant effort to hold his gaze, but still catches the quick, guilty glance downward once the binder is discarded. 

“It’s okay,” Taiga says, holding back a sigh. “You can look.”

“Sorry --” Aomine starts, before Taiga’s fingers close around his wrist.

“No, really,” he insists, bringing his hand off the floor and over to his chest. “You can touch, too.”

Aomine still hesitates, “You sure?”

Taiga nods, and lets go. 

Aomine’s fingers are feather-light as they trace along the bottom of his ribcage, following old scrapes and recent bruises up the path of his sternum, barely making contact with his bare skin. Taiga shivers, and when the hand on his chest finally settles, it’s right over his heart. 

Then Aomine bends his head down, and touches his lips to Taiga’s collarbone, mouths at the upper slope of his breast, grazes a puckering nipple very lightly with his teeth. All the while he’s watching Taiga’s face, presumably for any sign that he might be out of bounds, but Taiga can’t do more than squirm against the floor and pant, encouraging him with a soft moan when his lips close around the other nipple, his tongue flicking out over the tip. He doesn’t know if Aomine just has some kind of oral fixation, or if he’s trying to give Taiga something to focus on besides the way his chest looks without a shirt, but either way, it’s working for him. 

From this angle, he can’t see much past the top of Aomine’s head and the rise of his shoulders, but as Aomine shifts down to straddle his knees, he feels something hard brush against his leg through the front of Aomine’s sweatpants, as he presses slow, open-mouthed kisses along Taiga’s stomach to settle at his waist.

Definitely an oral fixation, Taiga thinks, swallowing as he realizes that Aomine’s obvious erection is hovering _right_ above his shin. _Fuck._

But Aomine is hesitating now, smoothing his hands gradually over the bones of Taiga’s hips as he lifts his head.

“Can I...?” he asks, his voice thick. His fingers rest completely still on Taiga’s waistband to indicate what he means, but he still doesn’t seem very intent on finishing his sentences.

Taiga doesn’t feel any pressing obligation to say yes, and that’s what makes it so easy.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, letting his legs fall open in the space between Aomine’s thighs. “Go for it.”

Aomine stifles a laugh, and his eyes are still hazy, but they brighten with a thrill of anticipation as he scoots down even lower, undoing the button of Taiga’s jeans and slowly easing them down his hips. He’s still fully dressed, and Taiga feels like he ought to point this out, but then Aomine’s mouth is back on him, biting at the inside of his thigh, kissing the crease of his pelvis, settling with a gentle pressure right above his pubic bone. 

All rational thought flies out the window; the only thing Taiga knows is Aomine’s lips, centimeters away from where he’s already aching for his touch, desire coiling hot and desperate in the pit of his stomach.

Aomine burrows his face against Taiga’s groin first, his breath hot on the front of his underwear, and then his fingers are sliding over him through the damp cotton, and Taiga’s hips buck up off the floor, a gasp tearing from his throat. Aomine mouths at him through the fabric, digging his tongue against the raised nub of his clit when he finds it, and Taiga groans as he follows it with his thumb, rubbing in little circles and watching him with heated, hungry eyes.

Taiga closes his own, panting harshly, as Aomine carefully slips his hand into the front of his boxer briefs, and hears him breathe out as he finally touches him skin to skin.

“Fuck, _Kagami,_ ” he whispers, as his fingers drag through wet, springy hair, his hand cupping around him as his thumb returns to his throbbing growth. Taiga gulps a breath, trembling, and snags a hand in Aomine’s hair as he dips his head again, just to have something to hold onto.

Aomine kisses Taiga’s stomach, and gently pushes his underwear down. One of his fingers starts to tease his entrance, sliding easily through the wetness, but he doesn’t press it inside yet.

“Is this okay?”

Taiga manages a shaky nod, biting his lip, and the finger eases into him, stroking and curling against his inner walls while the thumb slowly massages his clit. Taiga has already seen the size of Aomine’s hands, but how effortlessly he’s able to multitask like that is a dizzying reminder that only adds to the allure, and makes him that much more curious to see what else they can do.

His own hand tightens in Aomine’s bangs, his hips moving restlessly under the onslaught of his fingers, and as Aomine’s pace increases, a second finger joining the first, Taiga swears he can hear his breath pick up right alongside his own. They’re both panting over the wet squelch of Aomine’s fingers thrusting into him, but it’s only when Aomine shifts to get better leverage that the bulge of his cock presses to Taiga’s knee, and a soft moan falls from his lips.

Taiga hisses a breath between his teeth and bends his leg slightly, applying friction, and although there’s several layers of fabric between them, he can still feel Aomine’s hardened dick straining against his pants, and the sound he makes as his hips grind shamelessly against Taiga’s knee is downright pornographic. 

The realization that Aomine is all but humping his leg while he fingers him hits Taiga in the same moment that Aomine’s thumb moves away from his clit, only to be replaced by the silken inferno of his mouth. 

“Oh, _shit,_ ” Taiga gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as Aomine sucks the swollen, hypersensitive bud between his lips, a rush of lightning pleasure stinging through his stomach as his legs begin to shake, out of his control. Aomine’s doesn’t stop finger-fucking him, even as he sucks relentlessly at his clit, his wrist flexing, already drenched with Taiga’s juices when it makes contact with his skin, and it’s too much. He cums harder than he thinks he ever has, his back coming up off the floor as he cries out, clenching down on Aomine’s fingers, his legs shuddering to support him. 

Aomine doesn’t let him off the hook, though, and keeps driving his long fingers into him, curling them deep inside him as he pulls off his clit to watch his face, an almost manic gleam in his dilated eyes.

“Come on,” he says roughly, breathing hard. “Give me one more…”

Taiga writhes against the floor, his voice completely wrecked on the ragged, climbing moans that wrack his throat. He’s so overstimulated, he thinks he might explode, but when the pressure building up inside him finally releases, it comes in the form of a sudden, wet burst against Aomine’s fingers as his body spasms with orgasm.

Aomine stills, seeming just as shocked as Taiga by that.

“Holy fuck.” 

Taiga fights for breath, still shaking, the tangle of his jeans and his boxer briefs around his upper thighs now soaking wet. His head feels like static, his heart beating frantically against his ribs, and somewhere underneath all that, it dawns on him what just happened.

“Did you just…?” Aomine breathes, sounding awed.

“Shut up,” Taiga chokes, rather than reply. He’s not going to give Aomine any further satisfaction about the fact that he just made him squirt for the first time. Not if he can help it.

Even so, Aomine seems pretty damn smug as he leans over him, checking his willingness before pressing a fleeting kiss to his mouth, stroking the hand that _isn’t_ dripping wet slowly through his hair.

“That was amazing,” he says quietly, looking at Taiga with eyes that seem clearer than they’ve been since he started smoking tonight. Maybe since even before then.

Come to think of it, Taiga’s head is a lot clearer too, and now that he’s mostly caught his breath, he also feels looser and more relaxed than he can remember feeling in a long time. Even the persistent ache of his bruises has all but washed away in the afterglow. 

“Give me… ten minutes,” he says, with a weak grin and a nudge of his knee against the front of Aomine’s pants, where he’s still rock hard and pulsing with need. “And then I’ll pay you back.”

Aomine raises an eyebrow warily, “Is that an offer or a threat?” 

Taiga smirks, “Yes.”

.

.

Taiga wakes up to a sharp poke in the shoulder. He’s relegated to the very edge of his bed, the other two-thirds of it currently being taken up by Aomine, who somehow manages to be even larger in sleep than he is while awake. 

They’d both passed out almost as soon as they hit the mattress, after two more mind-blowing rounds, and a short but very necessary shower. It hadn’t occurred to Taiga to offer to let Aomine spend the night, and apparently, it hadn’t occurred to Aomine to ask either. Before either of them knew it, they were mostly dry and in clean new clothes, out cold under the blankets. 

And they both might have slept for a good twelve hours -- hell, Aomine still might, judging by his buzzing snores -- were it not for the insistent poking that drags Taiga unwillingly back to the land of the living.

He squints his eyes open groggily, his brain slow to catch up to what he’s seeing. The room is still shrouded in darkness, and he can just make out Tatsuya’s face, about four centimeters away from his own. He jumps.

“Dude, whathahell?” he slurs, reeling back and accidentally elbowing Aomine in the head. He snorts in his sleep, but doesn’t otherwise respond, seeming well and truly dead to the world. _Lucky bastard._

His flatmate stands up straight and crosses his arms, his face settling into a look Taiga has become extremely, intimately familiar with, over the years. Unimpressed, with a side of ‘ _so let’s get one thing straight.’_ Taiga sits up, trying his best not to look guilty, and Tatsuya lowers his lashes at him coyly.

“Taiga,” he says, saccharinely sweet. “Brother dear, love of my life…”

 _Oh shit,_ Taiga thinks. He’s in trouble.

“ _Please_ tell me you didn’t smoke my entire private stash with that one asshole from your Economics class last night. ”

He glances meaningfully at Aomine, and Taiga follows his gaze to the lump taking up the majority of the real estate in his bed; his face buried in his elbow exactly like when he naps through lectures, his hair a ruffled mess, his borrowed shirt very obviously a size too small on him. 

Then he turns back to face his brother with a look that’s probably more of a grimace than the winning smile he needs it to be.

“I can explain.”

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reference to My Blood by Twenty One Pilots, which is a jam and I will defend it. And also? I guess? Kinda a reference to the #I'llGoWithYou movement. Kinda.
> 
> So this fic was largely fueled by spite, and my need for more trans Kagami and supportive Aomine, but it was also a chance to test drive some headcanons for this...nebulous college AU that's been fermenting in my brain for a couple months now. We'll see if that ever ends up coming to fruition, or if it just keeps popping up occasionally in oneshots like this.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, so if you can, leave a comment. And let me know if you'd like to see more one-off fics like this, either related to this story or not.
> 
> Cheers! <3


End file.
